The Final Stage: Scenario 14
by Shinigami Hunter
Summary: Hand in hand, we'll walk down this road together. Stay by my side, and I'll stay by yours, forever and ever. We'll walk and walk, and when we have ceased, the sun will have set from the West to the East. Yullen, sequel to It's Not All Black and White.
1. First Stage: I must keep walking

_**Edit (January 17, 2009):** Did, uh, something. I forgot what I did to this thing. Oh, that's right, I changed the in-chapter title._

_A necessary side note: **This chapter takes place **before _**It's not All Black and White_._**_ I'm filling in some blanks on what Allen's been doing in the two years before _It's not All Black and White_'s timeline._

_Another side note: then sun actually sets from East to West. There's a reason for the way I wrote the summary. I did it on purpose.  
_

_-  
_

Oh geez, I finally got this out. Whew.

I'd like to say a big fat hearty _**THANK YOU SO GODDAMN MUCH**_ for all my faithful readers, if any 8D. And sorry if I've insulted your religion. I tend to say 'goddamn(ed)' quite a lot, and I'll stop if it offends anyone. Really.

Also, please don't read between the lines of this chapter _too much_. It's wonderful if you do, but you might get a headache, so please don't. I'll be bringing bits and pieces of this chapter into other chapters and clarifying them as we go along. So don't worry your pretty little asses off. Yet.

The other meaning to the title of the previous fic, _It's Not All Black and White_, is also mentioned here, but it's kind of obvious, so no kudos if you find it. D'aw.

Now that that's out of the way..

**Summary:** Hand in hand, we'll walk down this road together. Stay by my side, and I'll stay by yours, forever and ever. We'll walk and walk, and when we have ceased, the sun will have set from the West to the East. Yullen, sequel to _It's Not All Black and White_.

**Warnings:** One F word, implied sex, but nothing bad... Allen's screaming. Does that count? _No_, it's not because of Kanda. Sorry.

**Disclaimer:** I DON'T OWN ANY OF THIS. Except the rabid plotbunny that has spawned this fic. And I own the fic itself.

_Shinigami Hunter_ (FINALLY) presents to you…

**--**

* * *

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_**The Final Stage: Scenario 14**_

--

**First Stage: **_I am one who must keep walking_**  
**

--

Silence.

That's all he hears; silence.

There's no sound at all, not even when his blood trickles down his sickly pale arm and falls into the giant body of water, crimson red swirling down into the depths. There's no sound, no sound at all, no senses.

The moon in the sky is white.. a beautiful color.

But the one reflected in the water that's slowly being stained red… is black.

_Not again…_

Ruins, buildings that have fallen, buildings that weren't there… reflected on the water's surface. He can't see himself; he's not being reflected, but neither are the trees or rocks, not even the sky is reflected correctly. There aren't any stars in the reflected sky, no clouds, no dead trees, just a black moon, and ruins. Old, old ruins…

And.. Linali…

Linali.. she's the only one there. But there's someone else lying next to her, someone that looks like him.. but it's not, because he's not there. He can't help her, not even as she cries, her tears somehow reaching the water on her side and causing ripples on his side.

His blood continues to drip, down his arm and to the ground, creating a puddle that in turn spills into the lake, into the water.

His hand twitches, instinctively wanting to reach out and help her, consol her, stop her from crying, because Linali shouldn't cry. He wants to move his hand, but he can't, he can't help her, can't do anything but watch.

_No… no…_

And he stands there, watching, until he falls to his knees, still watching, still bleeding, as Linali cries silently, because he can't hear her. He can't help her, he can't move at all.

And then, just when he's able to reach out, just before he touches the water…

_No, no more! No more!_

--

Gasping, Allen wakes from the dream, his skin covered with cold sweat. He shivers and pulls the sheets closer around him, only to find that they're already as tight as possible. Despite this, he curls in on himself, clenching his eyes shut in an attempt to get rid of the image burned into the back of his brain, the image that he started seeing ever since _that_ happened, and he's been seeing it ever since.

He stays in that position for a while, as his breathing returns to normal and he can think rationally again.

_Where am I..?_

He doesn't want to open his eyes and find out, even though he should, but he doesn't want to. He's comfortable lying where he is right now, listening to the sound of his own breathing, the sound of his own heart… his own… heart.. beat…

_That's.. not __**my**__ heart beat…_

With deliberate slowness, Allen loosens his death-grip on the white sheets, shivering as some of the warmth is taken away, and sits up. His head hurts, like a migraine has suddenly decided to make a home in his head, but he looks around him anyway.

It's dark. There isn't much light, aside from a faint violet glow from an hourglass on the nightstand. A cracked stained glass window lets in no light, presumably because the sun has not risen yet. The room is barren, made of stone, cold, and has no furnishings but the bed and nightstand, and something that looks like a coat rack in the corner.

_This room... Why am I here..?_

Thinking about it only makes his head hurt more. Allen closes his eyes again, wrapping mismatched arms around his legs and hugging them to his chest and waiting for the inevitable, however long it takes. He has all the time in the world.

A shuffle next to him disrupts the silence, however, and Allen turns his head. Someone else is in the bed with him, someone obviously _male_, and _naked_, at that.

And Allen takes a moment to notice that he himself is _also_ naked.

Mild panic surfaces but is metaphorically squashed by a rock labeled 'immunity', otherwise known as "shit that I've experienced more than I'd like".

Leaning over the sleeping form, Allen brushes his Innocence hand over the pale skin, tracing the man's cheekbones down to his jaw. Every part of him is sharp and angular; nothing is soft or childish, naïve, or weak, but there's something about him that's.. _gentle_.

Midnight tresses flow through his fingers like water, silky smooth and smelling faintly of lotuses and even more faintly of vanilla. The man's hair is nothing like Allen's; stiff and choppy, cut with unskilled hands into a fashion that isn't really a fashion, just one that is the most convenient.

And his eyes are so dark, almost like a pair of black holes, sucking in anything and everything in sight. Recognition flits briefly across his eyes and he blinks, his face scrunching into a frown.

A drop of common sense would have told him to get the hell away and cover up.

"What the hell are you staring at, beansprout?"

Allen could see himself reflected in those pools of blue-ivory as specks of white and gray, a hint of red from the scar on his face.

He has seen his reflection numerous times, whenever he walks into the piano room, in the bathroom, but he still can't help staring. He's not a narcissist, not at all. It's not his beauty (or lack therefore of) he's looking at, not his strange hair or eyes, or the scar. He's not looking at what he can see.

Allen's looking underneath the surface of his reflection, and he's looking behind it. He's looking at the past, everything he's been through, all the battles he has experienced, all the people he has met. He seems them all.

Every time he looks in the mirror, it's all there.

"Are you deaf now?"

Allen blinks and stares, long and hard, at the faintly familiar features of the man lying under him.

"..Who are you?" He asks, eyes narrowing in suspicion when he can't recall where he's seen this person before.

"What the fuck?" The dark-haired man looks appalled and shocked but it's replaced with anger and annoyance. "Drop the act, idiot. You're not good at it."

Allen glares and opens his mouth to respond but instead, his vision blurs and he feels sick to his stomach. A few puffs of breath, and he can smell alcohol on his hand.

"You really can't hold your alcohol, can you?"

_A hangover, then?_

Pain spikes through the left side of his skull and he winces, sitting back and clutching at his head. Aching fatigue seeps through his body, particularly in his abdomen, and he makes a pained whimper.

"O-oi!" Firm hands shake him by the shoulders. The other man's voice is surprisingly comforting, Allen realizes, dulling the pain if only by a tad bit. But.. who..? "Walker!"

"You.. who.. how.." Another wince. "How do you know.. my name..?"

Familiar pain, right on schedule, tears through Allen's mind with a red-hot knife and he screams. His eyes are wide but unseeing, glassy, shaking, nothing but pain.

His own fingers become tangled in his hair, tugging sharply on snow white locks in agony. A feeling of nostalgia rises from the depths of his heart at all of the harsh words from so long ago, all spoken by the same man, the same person, from one single being. He bites his lip, temporarily silencing his cries, and hears that person speaking again.

But whether the voice is coming from reality or from his past memories... he can't tell.

"Dammit, Walker, snap out of it!"

Allen wants to reply, wants to assure him that he's fine even though he's not, but all that comes out of his mouth is another hoarse scream. It's not physical pain, because his body can still function; his limbs are fine, but there's still the pain.

It hurts to breathe; the simple, usually unconscious, action of drawing breath and inflating his lungs is torturous as his throat is slowly tearing with all of his screaming. Rivulets of blood trail down his chin and breathing suddenly refuses to become naught but a bloody chore, rather than a necessity.

A chore… something that should be done, but is not necessary…

_When was it that I started thinking… about that…_

"No…"

"..Moyashi?"

Allen shakes his head slowly, staring at the droplets of blood staining the bed sheets, still holding his head with more force than needed.

"No.. I don't want to do this anymore… don't.. want.." Something wet trickles from the corners of his eyes, tears, and mixes with the metallic red from moon-shaped punctures. "_No_…!"

_When did I start telling myself that.. staying alive.. was just a __**chore**__…?_

"No more.. no..more…"

Allen coughs, blood and phlegm clogging his airway and forcing him to hack and draw breath painfully. The man is talking again, yelling, but it's all muted and dulled. It's there, but it's not, like trying to talk to someone on the other side of a Plexiglas wall.

A soft buzzing reaches his ears, in his mind, a metaphorical mental barrier being raised around him in a sea of darkness. And out in the distance, little specks are flying towards him, moving, emitting sounds that echo and ricochet off the inside of his skull like Akuma bullets on his body.

Another impeding headache shakes the very foundation of his shivering form, his heart throbs and pulses against his ribcage and his breathing becomes more and more shallow, rushed, drying out his esophagus with each and every breath.

_Is this a dream.. another one..? No.. no more, please.. no more…_

There's a line between what's real and what isn't, often distinguished by things that can't possible happen.

But when you find out that you've fallen in love with the man you most hate, that line tends to blur a bit. When you've died and come back to life, that line starts breaking down. When you leave your friends and your beloved behind and hear of their deaths, that line loses solidity.

_When.. when did I…?_

When you die a second time and are brought back again.. that line has no meaning.

Allen is no longer able to clearly distinguish his nightmares from the everyday horrors of life.

--

_When did I start losing my will to live..?_

--

Walking.

That's his job; to walk. To walk, and walk, and keep walking, keep killing Akuma.. keep saving them..

He walks through the fields of dying grass, through a forest of dying trees, through a valley of crumbling rocks.. he walks along the winding path, never losing his way, always getting back on track, and leaving countless dead Akuma behind him.

And the road leads to an empty plain where the wind whistles softly, and the moon shines down from above.. and doesn't reflect from the water.

_The path.. is.. gone…_

"Idiot.."

…_What..?_

"You, you're an idiot."

_Someone's.. talking…_

"Of course I am."

Dark tendrils reach up from the water's surface, a sea of inky black. He stands at the shore of a piece of land that's slowly sinking, centimeter by centimeter, slowly but surely. Or maybe he has it in the wrong perspective. Maybe the water is just rising, rather than the land sinking.

He opens his mouth but no sound comes out.

"Don't talk. Think. You are, after all, the Musician of the Mind, aren't you?"

_Musician.. of the Mind?_

"The 14th Noah who was kicked out. You're not a real 'Noah'; you're the 'Musician'. Your only relation to the clan of Noah is your ability to control the Ark."

He kneels down and peers into the water, where the source of the voice is coming from. It's all black, and the only thing that separates it from the black sky is the slight shimmering of the surface. Despite how foreboding it looks, he finds it.. serene and peaceful, like something he'd want to fall asleep in.

"Crazy. You'll drown!"

_Who are you, anyway?_

"You've forgotten?"

_I.. don't know what you're talking about._

A breeze blows through, rattling the dead branches and sweeping his bangs out of a pair of hollow holes that should be his eyes.

"Look on the water, idiot bean."

He wants to frown but all his efforts are futile, so he merely does as he's told and looks. The tendrils in the middle of the body of water twists and morphs into a black and white lotus that looks oddly familiar.

_A lotus?_

"No, it's a man-eating alien. _Of course_ it's a lotus, dumbass."

_I'm not a dumbass!_

"Ha ha. Whatever. Look closer."

_How?_

"Uh, I dunno, _walk_?"

…_But there's water._

The voice doesn't reply, but the lotus starts steadily drifting away. He could have reached it with a single step were it solid ground, but not anymore. He looks down into the water again, and sees a speck of light near what should be the bottom.

The light grows bigger, eating away at darkness of the water and sending more ripples and waves across its surface. Soon, the light reaches the top of the water and bursts up, engulfing everything into a blinding white mass.

When he can see again, it's a different world, yet it's the same. A white moon, reflected black. His own face isn't reproduced on the top of the now colored liquid.

Colored? No, it's not colored.

It's another world down there; a world of broken buildings and decimated landscape, a black moon in a red sky.

_Linali…_

She's crying, silently, sitting atop a fallen structure, holding the body of a most likely dead comrade in her arms. He can't hear her, but he can see how frustrated and distressed she is, and he wants to go help her.

_Linali.. I have to.. help her… I.._

"Help her?"

_I have to…_

He reaches out and touches the water, sees it ripple and shimmer, but doesn't feel it. It's not wet, not cold, not warm, not slippery, not anything.

_Linali..!_

"By all means, go ahead and try, beansprout."

And he dives, falls into the lake, tumbles and turns until he's falling from the colored sky, such a contrast to his own world of black and white. He lands next to the Chinese girl, but she doesn't notice him and keeps crying.

"Allen…"

He can't blink, but that doesn't mean he's not confused.

"Allen.. why..?"

_Linali.. Linali, I'm right here._

"Why, why did you leave.. Allen..?"

_I'm.. right here…_

His mouth moves soundlessly, still unable to make any noise to alert her of his presence.

_Why..? Linali, why can't you hear me? I'm right here, Linali!_

His hand, a deathly white, reaches out to her and grazes against her pale-peach skin, but she doesn't react at all. Like he's not even there, even though he is.

A splash catches his attention. The ruins are stuck deep in seemingly shallow water, lapping gently at the crumbling structures. But Allen's not interested in the dead bodies, human and Akuma, floating in the water, or the black and white lotus, or the petal that's falling from it, sinking into the black water, only to defy the laws of physics and fall from the sky and into the palm of his hand.

Allen's looking at his reflection.

_.. I can.. see.. myself… why couldn't I see it before..?_

In a world of color, with Linali, Lavi, the Order, the Finders… he couldn't see himself. Like he didn't belong, he just didn't… feel right. He doesn't look like any of them, he can't communicate with them.. From his own world, he couldn't see himself living in this world.

His gaze is drawn towards a mess of dark blue stained red. A man, pale, Oriental, the same one he saw next to him in the dark room. He's obviously dead, like everyone else except for Linali.

_Linali.. why can't you hear me..?_

"Because you don't belong."

The dead man's harsh voice reaches his ears with a hint of an accent, barely there, but he can tell. Why, he doesn't know, but he can.

_You.. who are you?_

Lips that should be cold and lifeless quirk into a sneer.

"You've forgotten already, idiot bean?"

A black clothed arm, torn and bleeding, sinks into the water, reaching for the lotus on the surface. His whole body dips down and goes under, his hair fanning out like a curtain as he falls and comes to a rest on the shore of the island.

_I don't get it… I don't this at all.._

"Allen.. don't leave.. don't leave, don't leave us. We need you, Allen.."

Linali continues crying, shaking the shoulders of the person in her lap. She's calling him 'Allen', but he can't see the person's face.

He knows it's not really Allen, because he's standing right there, next to her, not lying down...

"Do you understand yet, beansprout?"

He finds himself kneeling down next to Linali, facing the water, watching the lotus lose more petals, watches those petals sink, watches them fall from the sky and onto the water, sinking again, repeating the cycle.

The petal has fallen, but it's still falling.

His time has come, but he has yet to die.

"Remember?"

_No.. no, please, no more.._

"Stupid.. you always were a stupid beansprout."

_No, no--!_

A figure erupts from the water, from his world of black and white, and easily scales the side of the building. Linali takes no notice as the person, creature… _thing_… grabs the front of his shirt, tugging him forward by the ribbon around his neck, the ribbon that should be red, but it's not, because his world has no color.

"See? You don't belong here, _Musician_. This world isn't for you. Come back to your world."

_But.. who are you..?_

White circles open up like eyes on the sorry excuse for a head and a face splitting grin appears underneath the orbs.

_.. The 14__th__…?_

"Wrong-o."

Black mud drips down its head, thinning out into threads like hair, like that Japanese man's.

"I don't have a name.. yet.. Doubt I ever will. But.. my host has a name.."

Its mouth moves but no sound comes out.

_..What..?_

"…da…."

_.. I.. can't hear…_

The grin doesn't let up.

"..nda… nda…. anda…"

Seemingly frustrated, the creature jerks him off the ledge and back down into the water. He sinks, chokes, falls, and lands on the shore again, next to the other man.

"His name is.. Kanda… Yuu Kanda. Remember it, beansprout. Remember his name, no matter what."

_Kan…da… Kanda…. Yuu… Kanda._

"Che.."

He turns his head and looks at the long-haired man, whose face looks like his now. Colorless, a simple, pasty white for skin, and hollows for eyes. The only difference is his black hair. Blood still stains his skin, bright red in a sea of black and white.

The creature crawls out from the water again. Black sludgy liquid molds into a more defined form, a body, arms, and legs. It.. he.. _whatever_ it is, still has circles of white for eyes, and a forever leering grin. Its clothing is the same as the one the Japanese is wearing; a black and white Exorcist coat, ripped, torn, and ragged at the edges.

"Do you understand yet, moyashi?" it hissed in a tone similar to the Japanese's, ghostly white grin widening more than its face should allow, a grin that was frighteningly like another that he'd seen before.

…_You're.. a Noah..?_

"Bingo, beansprout. I am Yuu Kanda's Noah. When his lotus wilts, I will be awakened.. or so I am hoping."

_What does that mean?_

"The Noah contained in a person is not known, and therefore unnamed, until they have awakened… When I am not yet awakened, I have no name and I do not claim any existence more than a dream or nightmare does."

_So even you don't know which Noah you are?_

"_I_ know what I am, but I have no name. I am a Noah with certain powers, and those powers will dictate which Noah I am."

_I thought it was the other way around…_

The dying lotus drifts closer to the island, another petal falling off and sending itself to the dark depths of the body of water and into the other world. Looking into the lake is like looking into a never ending mirror in which another mirror is situated across from it, forever reflected against each other into something like a tunnel.

He looks back at the Exorcist next to him – Kanda, was it? Kanda…

_..Why did.. Kanda…He was over there.. with Linali.. How.. how did he get over here..?_

"This is your world, beansprout, and that is your friend's."

_Linali's world?_

"Aa, Linali's."

The difference between his and Linali's world is small, yet so big and noticeable. Hers is vibrant and full of color, or it used to be. Buildings, technology, people – friends and family, people she loved, loves, and will love…

His world is dull, monochrome, only two colors – only two sides. Black and white, evil and good.

Akuma and humans.. no, not humans; him. Akuma.. and him.

The only ones Allen cared about were the Akuma.. and himself. The Akuma, because they didn't belong in this world, in Linali's world, so they must be destroyed and sent to heaven; and himself, because he must be alive to save the Akuma.

And he lost sight of that path. He walked all the way, and came to a dead end, only to see what he's missing. To see, and finally realize, that his world is being swallowed up by Linali's, being drawn in by her comfort and love.

He could so easily transcend the barrier and dive into her world, be part of her family, her friend.. but he would never belong.

Rising to his feet, he moves to pick up the dying, most likely dead, Exorcist, Kanda.

"Where do you think you're going, beansprout?"

He looks down at the man in his arms with eyes that did not exist. He can't tell if Kanda's alive or not, because his eyes aren't close, never will, never can, and the lack of skin color doesn't help either.

…_I don't know…_

He steps out onto the water, and it turns to ice under his foot. Another step, and another, a path of frozen water appearing as he walks. Like a barrier being created, that prevents him from falling, drowning, into Linali's world.

_.. But I have to keep walking._

He leaves behind his world filled with destructed Akuma, broken and scattered across the desolate landscape. Every time a friend dies, Linali's world breaks down, and when they're all dead, her world is like an ancient ruin straight out of a textbook.

Every time he kills an Akuma, his resolve should be strengthened.. but instead, he has slowly been losing that resolve, that reason to fight, tricked into thinking that he will soon be able to leave his world, where he is obsessed with Mana, and enter another one of peace and devoid of death…

_I have to.. keep walking…_

Allen holds Kanda closer to him, doesn't stop walking, doesn't look back, and continues onward towards the lotus.

And red blood continues to fall from their wounds, mixing and swirling together as they hit the water and spiral into the depths, dripping onto the stone beside Linali.

--

_Because, now, my world is no longer black and white…_

_Because, now.. Yuu will be my reason to walk forward._

--

"General Walker.. General, wake up!"

Allen's eyes open slowly, blinking away the sleepiness and groaning at the faint roaring of the train.

_A dream… It was all just a dream._

"General.."

"Myria, stop calling me that. I'm not a General anymore, remember?" He sighs and sits up, leaning back against the leather seat of the first-class compartment. He should be riding in second- or third-class, but he's gotten to used to first-class and uses his silver cross out of habit. "..Where is this train headed, Myria?"

"You've forgotten already?" Myria gives him a smile anyway, out of understanding. "We're heading to China, then taking a ship to Japan, Gen—Mr. Walker."

"Allen, Myria. Just call me Allen." The white-haired man, no longer a boy but still having the appearance of one, looks out the window at the passing scenery, thinking back on the series of dreams he's been having over the course of the week. "..Japan, is it..?" Another moment of silence, and he's finally made up his mind. "Myria."

"Yes?"

"You have no problem controlling your need to kill humans, correct?"

"…Yes. To an extent. I do have limits."

"Hm.. you don't have your Innocence anymore.. I guess you could make do as a Finder."

"Huh?"

Allen smiles but doesn't turn to look at Myria.

"We're getting off at the next stop, Myria. There's something.. some_one_ important.. that I've forgotten about."

"Ah…"

Allen reaches into his suitcase and extracts a pair of silver golems, not unlike their black counterparts, and hands one to the modified Akuma sitting across from him.

"I've managed to make these, but they're only prototypes. There's no range limit to how far we can communicate, but unfortunately, they can only connect to one frequency."

She takes it and turns it on, checking to see if it works, then turns it off and stows it away in the Finder robes Allen gives her, also from the suitcase.

Where he finds the room to store all that stuff, no one knows.

"Why do we need these? Won't the normal golems be good enough?"

Allen tucks away his own silver communicator into his faded Exorcist coat. "It's just a precautionary measure. I'll do my best to make sure our arrival is not brought to the attention of the Grand Generals, lest they manage send us in different directions. If that happens, we may not be able to communicate with regular golems."

Myria leans forward a little, eyebrows knitted together in confusion. "..Grand Generals?"

_If only for a little bit.. if only for a single reason…_

"We're going back to the Black Order, Myria."

--

_I must keep walking._

--

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--

A/N: Bleeehhh, I guess I _kind of_ like how this turned out... Oh! Oh! And I'd like to mention this once and for all..

THIS FIC DOES NOT CONTAIN SEX.

I mean, aside from the mentions, and none that hasn't already happened. I'm still debating whether or not to try and type up two drunk teens doing it in Kanda's room (what a horrible place for a first time; it's so gloomy in there. No mood at all!), and some feedback may help.

Why do I get the feeling no one will say 'NAY' to this?

Oh well. Probably my imagination. After all, it may be the _only bit of pr0n/smut that will ever appear in this fiction_, but that's probably _just me being me_.

I was not giving you a hint.

But, no, this is not a 'omg I slept with Allen/Kanda do I love him nao?' fic. They have already.. had sex. Drunk sex, but still sex. And they already know that they love each other. There's just some.. complications. Like usual.

LOL the word _sex_ looks so weird on the monitor right now. It makes me laugh. 8D


	2. Second Stage: I must not forget

Not quite as long as the first chapter BUT IT WAS THE BEST I COULD DO without revealing too much OTL''

ANYWAY I'M SORRY I DIDN'T UPDATE SOONER I REALLY AM SORRY, but I've been kind of busy with homework and RPing and such. Please excuse me. ;w;

**Warnings:** Cursing on Cross's behalf. Kanda does not make an appearance until later, so the other redhead is filling in for him. Also some angst sprinkled around the edges.

OH AND THIS IS UNBETA'd. If there's any mistakes I didn't catch while typing this, feel free to e-mail/tell me/PM/whatever.

**Disclaimer:** I WISH I OWNED -MEN. But I don't. Hoshino does.

WITHOUT FURTHER ADO, please enjoy~

* * *

--

_**The Final Stage: Scenario 14**_

--

**Second Stage:** _I am one who must not forget_

--

"_'We're going back to the Order'_.. is what you said, General—"

"I'm not a General anymore, Myria."

She ignores him. "—but how do you plan to get past the gatekeeper?"

Allen shrugs, nibbling on a Polish hotdog, one of many that he's holding, as they wait in the station for the next train to arrive. "The Ark. I'll use that."

"But, my lord—"

"It's just _Allen_, Myria."

"—you can't make a gate to a place you've never been to before.. can you?"

Allen smiles, though rather grimly and not very happily. "I can now, Myria."

She watches the Noah-in-disguise as he stands up. The train pulls in and empties out rather quickly, and they board it afterward.

"Then couldn't we use the Ark to go there right now?"

"We're not at that stage yet. I've something else planned out, but I'm still working on it."

They head straight for the first-class compartments and Allen shuts and locks the door behind them. From his pocket, Allen extracts the silver golem, _Ergald_, and places it on the windowsill. Timcanpy flutters around it, sunlight glinting off of its metallic wings as Ergald opens its mouth and projects an image into the air.

Cross Marian, in all of his General-y glory, is looking rather miffed on screen.

"Finally going to send me somewhere _outside_ Japan?"

"Is that all you have to say to me, Master?" Allen smiles, eyebrow ticking rather noticeably. "A little 'hi' would suffice."

"Uh. No. I don't."

"Fine, fine." The silver-haired Exorcist-slash-Noah takes another bite out of his last hotdog and swallows it quickly. "No, you're staying in Edo, Master. You still haven't healed yet."

Cross grumbled something about being 'ordered around by little brats'.

"Anyway." Allen's forced smile drops and he's suddenly serious, and Cross knows that the time for business discussion has started. "We're commencing the Last Stage of the Earl's Scenario."

"Last Stage? Are you fucking suicidal?" Cross puts out his cigarette, something he only does when he knows he has to pay attention. "In case you haven't noticed, we've only got _three_ Noahs, idiot apprentice, not _thirteen_, or however the fuck many the Earl planned to have."

"Not three, Master. We have four."

Cross snorts. "And who, pray tell, may this fourth Noah be?"

Timcanpy's role comes in here, and the golden golem is projecting another image, recordings, of a long-haired Oriental man in an Exorcist coat.

"Yuu Kanda. An Exorcist."

--

"So. Are we clear on what we have to do?"

"Hmph. Oi, Marks, you get all that?"

"I sure did. That's one hell of a plan, boss. Sure you're up to it?"

Allen smiles at the African American Exorcist-slash-Noah lingering next to Cross. "I should be asking you that, Stephen."

"Eh.. I'll be fine… I guess." Stephen laughs, always so carefree despite his past. Almost like Allen. But that was the keyword.

_Almost._

"Are you sure? We could wait a little longer, for you to get a little more control over Rhode's abilities."

"I'm just psyching out over the way we _heal_." He shudders. "Nasty. And it's kind of hard to fight while I'm healing, too.

"Noah and Innocence don't go well together," Allen explains, as though he has experience with this sort of thing. "Try and wait until you're done fighting before you heal, if you can. So, how's Edo faring?"

"Eh, almost cleaned out. Japan's a friggin' pile of islands, so I can't ride the train everywhere, and I haven't been able to control where I land when I use the dimensional door, either."

"How long do you think it'll take?"

"Uh.. a week?"

"You have two weeks, then. That's plenty time."

"Aye, boss!"

Stephen gives a mock salute and marches out of the screen, humming a patriotic song along the way.

Cross sighs and takes another drag from the recently lit cigarette in his hand. "Well, Allen, what's next?"

"We're sending the Order a heads up. You will, that is."

Cross scoffs. "They think I'm _dead_, Allen. What good would sending a letter do us?"

"Nah, they don't really know.. I mean, _just because_ you left behind a puddle of blood, Judgment, and a broken widow _doesn't mean_ you're dead." Allen smiles, and then adds as an afterthought, "yet."

"Funny, brat. Very funny."

"Just do it," Allen says with a smile. "I'll take care of the rest, Master."

The (ex-?)General stares at him for a moment, contemplating. He's changed a lot since Cross first met him, so many years ago.

"You can stop calling me 'Master', brat. We're no longer in the Black Order. Ranking means nothing off the job."

Allen laughs, a small chuckle, but it's a relief to hear such a sound at all.

Ever since he left, ever since he disappeared, he's been looking more and more like Kanda – that is, with a permanent frown etched on his face. It was the look of one who held many burdens, one who felt like he was supporting the entire world on his shoulders.

And in Allen's case, that was pretty much the truth.

But with Kanda.. well, it wasn't that far off.

"When did we ever resign from our positions, Master?" Allen inquires with a light shrug. "As far as I know, we're only considered _missing in action_."

"Well, we're not exactly doing our _job_, either."

"But does that constitute as _leaving_?" The white-haired man leans against the leather cushion of his seat, hugging his knees to his chest.

Looking at him is like going back in time, seeing a child that he always has been and should still be, no matter what. A child that shouldn't be tainted by war, a child that needs to be shown love. A child.. that is no longer a child.

A child that has grown up, even when he was still a child.

"It does if you don't contact them."

"But, Master. You didn't."

"I sent _letters_. Occasionally. I think."

"_You didn't_."

Cross scoffs. "What the hell did you think I was doing while you were off paying debts?"

Allen rolls his eyes. "Blimey, I dunno, _making more_?"

"That wasn't the only thing I was doing."

"Oh, _really_?"

"Boy, I was the one who picked you up off the streets. You should be fucking _grateful_ that I gave you something to do with your life."

"_Ahem._"

Allen stops in mid retort and snaps his mouth shut.

Of course.

It's not the Noahs who are acting like adults, even though one of them _is_ an adult; it's the Akuma they've modified who keeps them in line. Without some higher power controlling them, Noahs are just like everyone else. Except for the fact that some of them have an insatiable bloodlust, while others are just plain weird.

Not to mention, they can't keep their hands from destroying Innocence.

Not that Myria is some 'higher power'. She's just reminding Allen and Cross of the reason why they're talking in the first place, and it's not to get revenge for some things from almost a decade ago.

"Right, _Marian_," Allen sighs, sinking back into the leather seat with a tired look. He straightens up after a moment, just as Cross does, and they're back on track for business discussions. "It turns out that you were telling the truth. There _is_ another side to this war. Though, how you knew, I'm curious to know."

"I have my sources, brat." Cross waves a hand dismissively.

"And it's a dangerous side. Did you know that?"

"Boy," Cross leans forward in his seat, a serious look in his one visible eye. "_All_ sides in times of war are dangerous. You'll always have an enemy, no matter which one you choose. It's all a matter of _getting to them_ before _they_ get to _you_."

"So, if this war were to be related to.. I dunno, a _chess game_," Allen makes vague gestures, as though drawing a box in the air. "Then the pieces would be…"

"The white King is the Pope of the Church of England. The black King.. is the Earl." The red-headed General takes a drag, exhaling the smoke off to the side. "Is that what you're thinking?"

"No, not quite." Allen states as he rummages in his suitcase (of infinite depths) for a chess board and pieces. "The pawns, of course.. Exorcists for the white, Akuma for the black. The Generals and the Noahs make up the rest of the pieces, even though there's more of them than the pieces we have available."

"But the _Kings_ are the still the same."

"No," the boy repeats in a softer tone, holding the black Queen between his thumb and forefinger. "The Queen is the piece that can move in any direction as much as she wants. Who, on the Earl's side, is capable of such a feat, Marian?"

His answer is quizzical gaze and a shrug.

"Being able to do as they wish, no matter the consequences, the one in command of the rest, the strongest of all the pieces…"

The piece is placed in its proper place on the board with a soft _clink_, before being lifted and set right in front of the white King in checkmate.

"..Is the Earl."

"But, brat, in _chess_," Cross begins, resting his chin in his right palm. "You're not allowed to do that right off the bat. There are rules."

"This isn't _chess_ anymore, Marian. It's a war." Allen states airily, as if it has nothing to do with him, or either of them, at all. He puts the black Queen piece back on the right side of the board. "The Earl is dead, you and I haven't reported back to the Order for a while, the Grand Generals no doubt believe I'm dead.. the sides are becoming imbalanced.

"The pawns are the Exorcists and the Akuma. The rest are the Generals and the Noah members… The Queens are the Earl.. and.. The one who can defeat him. Namely.. me."

The white Queen knocks the black one off the board and replaces it.

"But in doing so.. I'm doing the job that the Earl has not finished. And, in a war.. someone must replace the lost Queen. That person, from the Order, would be.." Allen has a small smile on his face, almost proud, yet also sad and dismayed, and he puts the black Queen next to the white King. "..Kanda. Our Noah."

"So, what, is that Asian brat gonna off you sometime in the near future?"

"… I hope not." The boy whispers softly, though he doesn't look very sad at the thought of being killed by Kanda. "I've already done my side of the Scenario." The white Queen knocks over the black King. "I have already taken out the Earl's King. All that's left.. is Kanda's job."

"To destroy the Order's 'King'," Cross scoffs again, looking none too amused at this silly rendition of the Holy War. "And who may that be?"

"Not _who_, Marian, but _what_. And _what_ we're destroying…" Allen picks up both Kings with his cursed hand and makes a fist around them, gripping tightly, tighter, until they shatter, showering pieces of clay over the board and a small pile of dust from pieces that were pulverized.

".. Are the two halves of the Heart."

--

Their golems are starting to malfunction from the lack of attention.

Cross is a scientist, not a mechanic, and he has no idea how to fix a golem, nor does he have enough time to learn. There are no Finders with phones to use, and using a public phone is risky; the chances of the Order tracing their calls are dangerously high.

A letter – no matter how much Cross hates writing them, and no matter how much his hand fucking hurts – is their only form of communication at the moment.

Ergald's twin golem, Endlest, is the only one in the room with him. The only thing that distinguishes Ergald from Endlest, is.. well, the fact that Allen has Ergald and Cross has the other. The red-headed General has no other golems to use, and Endlest can only connect to Ergald and possibly Timcanpy, but they haven't tried it yet.

The pair of ball-like golems are the results of trying to duplicate Timcanpy, to make more golems that could react to the outside world and store items, record clips, carry out orders.. but it was a failure. Because Timcanpy is special. Timcanpy isn't just a golem, nor is it one that Cross had made – oh, sure he claims he made it, and he may as well have.

Cross knows more about Timcanpy's functions than anyone else. Aside from the golem's original owner, or course. The 14th Noah is and always will be the one person who has completely knowledge of Timcanpy, inside and out.

Sighing, the General sets down the pen and flexes the fingers of his blackened but healing hand. It hurts, and he winces, of course, but he knows that he's got no right to complain. Allen has through worse, no doubt. He probably still is.

And all Cross could do was help from the sidelines, because his stupid martyr of an apprentice refused to have any of them risk their lives for him. Even though he's doing the same thing for someone else.

Hypocrite.

"That brat is so cheeky now." The General chuckles at his choice of words, the same ones he uttered before he was nearly killed. "I… guess it wasn't so bad.. being at the Black Order."

If anything, it has helped the boy grow up emotionally, if not physically as well.

The General sighs, leaning back in his chair with a less than content expression. The injury he received not too long ago is just a reminder of what he has done and what he has yet to do, what he has to do. What _they_ have to do.

And what the Order must do.

That's right. Those Grand Generals think they're running the show, but they're not. Not at all. Then again, Cross isn't one to talk. He's not the big boss around here. No, that used to be the Earl. Used to, but he's dead now. Dead, long gone, never to rise again.

Damned Noah finally died.** (1)  
**

No, it's not the Earl anymore.

Allen Walker is pulling the strings, Musician that he is. Playing the score, directing the symphony – leading the act.

Allen Walker in charge of carrying out the Final Stage of the Earl's Scenario.

Allen _fucking_ Walker has been entrusted with the job to save this fucking world.

The downside?

"That fucking place has turned him into a worse martyr than that fat ass."

An exasperated sigh as he tilts his head to the side, cricking his neck in a futile attempt to get relaxed. What he wouldn't give to have a couple of women right now, a bottle of vintage Barolo** (2)**, a _comfortable_ leather couch, maybe a nice Persian rug…

Well, luxuries weren't really something they could afford right now, what with Allen unable to work and pay debts, Cross unable to move freely because he's supposed to be _dead_, and none of the Noahs can do anything about it because they're, well, _Noah_.

And besides. They don't have much time left--

Correction.

_Allen_ doesn't have much time left.

Cross stares at the blood red cross – ironic, isn't it – carved onto the back of his blackened right hand. It's a reminder of he's become, what he is, what he and Allen and Marks are and what they still have to do. Abusing his powers is something he can no longer do, because this is what happens.

Crippled hand, confined to a dingy house in Japan, waiting for that hand to heal – hoping that nothing bad will happen to Allen and them before he can get back into action.

He's not regretting what he did, though. Marks would be dead if he hadn't done it, and they can't afford to lose anyone, especially not a Noah. Or at least, the Host of a Noah's memory. He's still curious as to how Marks got Rhode's memories, though. Walker won't say a fucking thing about it.

The clock ticks ominously in the background and time goes on. It's not going to stop and wait for them to get ready. Nothing will. No one's patient enough for this kind of shit.

Except Allen Walker.

Cross slides the letter into an envelope and seals it shut with a drop of hot wax, pressing a stamp into the liquid as it starts cooling and solidifying. He addresses the letter to a certain eccentric scientist and sets it down, reminding himself to find a way to get the letter sent without revealing their location.

_Just a little longer, Allen. Hang on to that thin thread of life for just a little longer. We'll pull through. We'll succeed. We'll survive, Allen. And you will, too._

It's an empty prayer, to wish for the boy's survival. Cross knows this. He's aware of it, has been all along. He knows it won't be long before Allen's life runs out – _again_.

It won't be long before he dies for the third time in his life.

And hopefully, Cross is most definitely praying for this, his last time.

So Allen's soul can finally be put to rest.

--

_Master.. he wants me to stop calling him that. Fine. I'll just call him Marian. _

_Marian says I should start keeping a journal. I doubt I'll write much. My memories have been fading lately, and we're hoping this will help me remember if I ever forget again._

_Of course, I'm worried that I'll forget about this journal-diary altogether._

_'How the mighty have fallen', is a quote I tend to ponder quite a bit. How true it is. Just look at us._

_The Noahs have disbanded._

_The Earl is dead._

_Marian and I are.. have.. defected.. betrayed the Order.._

_How the mighty have fallen, indeed._

_With any luck, Marian will have sent that letter. It'll arrive at the Order, where Komui will read it.. and announce my.. untimely death to the rest of them._

_And then, in two weeks.. we'll send Timcampy over to start the next stage. And then it's just a matter of gathering up as many Akuma as we can into the Ark. They'll watch the clip I've programmed Tim to relay, and then he'll pretend to wait for a password._

_Tim will send the live feed to Ergald within the Ark and I'll simply wait until the Akuma have been gathered. Then.. pretend that they've found the right password.. say a few words and pretend it's a recording.._

_I hope they fall for it. If not.._

_It wouldn't matter._

_All we need is Kanda. Kanda.. and maybe.._

_Any other Hosts we can find. But Kanda is top priority, not just because I want him to be safe – though that's not too far from the truth – but because he's necessary for the Earl's Scenario to progress._

_Who would've thought that stupid jerk would actually be the key to saving the world._

_Paint the cross red with blood, Allen. Paint it red with your own flesh, your emotions, thoughts, and lives of those sacrificed for the war. Paint it red with your own life, Allen Walker._

_Don't forget this goal. Don't forget to save the world. You don't have much time left._

_So don't forget to keep on living, too._

--

_I must not forget…_

_--_

_

* * *

_

**(1)** In chapter 158 of the manga, Tyki refers to the Earl as human, saying '...He is human after all'.

**(2)** Barolo is a type of wine.

REVIEW. I BESEECH YOU TO REVIEW. It helps motivate me and tells me to update this before _Experimental_.

I've decided, through no influence of you readers, that I _will_ include that night of drunk, mad, passionate sex between Allen and Kanda. IT MIGHT TAKE A WHILE TO WRITE. Do not expect anything extravagant for something such as drunk sex.

'Kanda', 'Allen', 'drunk', and 'sex' should never go the in same sentence ever again. 'Kanda' and 'passionate' does not exist, so it will not be such.

Again, I apologize for the extremely late update and lack of Valentine's Day one-shot or whatever.

P.S.: 'sex' still looks pretty damn hilarious on screen. 8DDDD


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